


Scratching an Itch

by RachaelLikesYaoi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Closeted Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Case, Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 (Supernatural), Dean/Cas Tropefest 5k Mid-Winter Challenge (Supernatural), Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Not in a sexy way, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tropefest 2021, Vomiting, tropefest2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelLikesYaoi/pseuds/RachaelLikesYaoi
Summary: Castiel only went to a stupid frat party so that he could pick someone up. It just so happened to be his luck that the only guy that grabbed his attention was that douche bag Dean Winchester. Y'know the guy that couldn't seem to leave Castiel alone any time they ran into each other on the athletic field.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 69
Collections: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k





	Scratching an Itch

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Vomiting
> 
> Updated: 02/14/20- fixed some formatting issues, and changed fic title to Scratching AN Itch because apparently I was dumb and named it Scratching AND Itch at some point.

Castiel had been nursing his third strange concoction of peach schnapps and Jack Daniel’s as his eyes traveled across the crowded room. The booze had certainly started to take effect because his gaze finally began to wander to places he didn’t often let himself look. It strolled along broad shoulders covered by worn leather, then dipped down to see a nice set of buttocks perfectly shaped by dark denim. Castiel was usually one to catch himself whenever this happened. The staring. He didn’t often delve into his carnal desires, but tonight was different. He was here to delve. 

Just then, he glanced back up to watch as the object of his attention turned around to face him, revealing himself to be none other than Dean Winchester.

Fuck.

Castiel couldn’t stand the guy. He had run into Dean a few times on the athletic field, but every time they’ve interacted it had never been good. Dean was utterly childish because every time that they came across one another he tried to race Cas. He was always a sore loser too. Though he still acted like the sun rose just for him or some shit, and he was the best thing since sliced bread. It would be just his luck that his ass was the nicest thing Castiel had seen all night. 

They shared a glance from across the room, and his eyes flicked away from Dean when he noticed the man’s smile, small but knowing. As if he had caught Castiel staring. Which Castiel attempted to ignore by looking absolutely anywhere but at those full lips. 

He should leave, because now Dean was walking towards him. Castiel glanced back to watch as the other man made his way over. It gave his slightly inebriated state the opportunity to fully drink Dean in, much to his obvious feelings of general distaste toward him. 

See, Castiel knew that Dean was attractive. A person would have to be blind not to find the man’s bright green eyes or strong jaw appealing. It was annoying because anytime he got a look at the other he felt this twist in his stomach. Unbearable, truly. As Dean stepped up closer to Castiel, closing the distance between them, he found more things to appreciate. His freckles, or his nose, or the way his lips moved as he spoke. 

Shit. 

Dean was talking. He had this stupid little smile while he talked, but Castiel couldn’t hear anything. Not really. The music was too loud, and he shouldn’t be listening to Dean anyway. He didn’t care what the other had to say. 

So Castiel turned away from Dean without so much of a word. Just held his finger up to point at his ear, miming that he couldn’t hear a damn thing, and turned to head into the kitchen. Which was probably the only place in the entire frat that wasn’t being deafened by whatever was booming out of the speakers in the living room. The harsh drums still practically shook the walls, but the volume was easier to handle. Castiel made his way over to a little island that featured all of the booze and beer for the evening, and he took no time at all to grab and unscrew the Jack Daniel’s bottle he had become familiar with over the course of the night. 

“I said-” 

Castiel jumped then, nearly dropping the bottle but thankfully holding on to it. He turned to see, to no surprise at all, that Dean had followed him into the kitchen. 

“Jeeze. I didn’t think you’d jump,” Dean remarked with an easy smile. “Don’t lose your drink there.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes before looking back down to his cup. When had he sat it down? He poured the whiskey into it, and tried not to think about how close Dean was standing to him. He wouldn’t choose Dean. He shouldn’t. Interacting with Dean outside of what little space they share on the practice field should stay at a bare minimum. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of these.”

That was because Dean hadn’t. Castiel didn’t often dare go to parties, and he definitely didn’t find himself at Kappa Beta Sigma. It was simply the closest to his shitty little apartment, and he’d spent countless past Friday nights listening to the parties a block away.

“That’s because I don’t really go to these,” Castiel grumbled, hoping simultaneously that Dean would both leave, and stay. This wasn’t good, but it could be. No. Dean was probably as straight as an arrow. He was only talking to Castiel now because he wanted to start something. Maybe rag on him. No doubt he would flit off at some point once he found someone more interesting. 

“Yeah, you don’t seem the type.”

Castiel sat the bottle back down and grabbed his cup before turning to look at Dean head on. “You certainly do. You look right at home, so why are you bothering me?” He knocked back what little whiskey he’d poured into his cup, and did his best to disregard the little sway he got from doing so. Dean’s smile shifted then, from knowing to full on shit-eating. It was infuriating, or at least Castiel tried to convince himself that it was. 

“Oh come on, drop the act,” Dean said as he leaned over to Castiel, filling what little personal space was between them. He was very aware of Dean’s breath on his ear. “I know you were looking at my ass. I’m not dumb Cas.” 

Shock. 

Or at least something like it was rushing through Castiel’s viens. His eyes grew wide as it hit him that Dean had in fact seen Cas checking him out. He stared blankly as his mind drew a giant blank. 

He should leave.

“You smoke?” Dean asked, and suddenly Castiel remembered where he was, what was happening around them. Then remembered that this was not the time or place to be gawking at Dean Winchester. Soon, maybe, but not now. “Join me outside?” 

Castiel watched as Dean pulled a shabby pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He didn’t smoke. He had tried it back in high school, but never really found the action appealing to him. That didn’t stop him from blatantly watching Dean pull a cigarette from the pack and place it on the edge of his lips. 

Didn’t he just make the comment that he shouldn’t be gawking?

He looked away then, down towards the liquor, and moved his hand out to grab a bottle again before it was being swatted at. 

“Dude, you are literally swaying. I think you’ve had enough,” Dean commented as Castiel peeked over to him again. Even with the smoke clouding everything around them. The way the kitchen light illuminated over Dean almost made him look bathed in it like some kind of saint. 

“I’m-” Castiel’s stomach twisted then, and not in a good way. It dropped, curled, and he was so familiar with the feeling that he was dropping his cup and searching around the room for a place to barf. The kitchen sink was currently being occupied by ice, and there was no trash can in sight. There was however an open backdoor with what looked like a nearly abandoned porch. 

Thank God Castiel is one of the fastest runners in the state. The second his eyes hit the doorway he was running toward it, leaving Dean and the rest of the party in his wake. When he passed the threshold into the open and chilly night, he nearly lost it then. The vomit bubbled up into his mouth, but he swallowed it down. Not on the porch. Definitely not on the porch. It burned back down his throat, but he pressed forward.

When he reached the edge of the porch, guarded by a dilapidated fence, he leaned over and that was when he finally let his stomach fully lurch. He retched as he gripped the splintered wood of the fence, completely emptying the contents of his stomach. It burned his mouth and his nose, but he just let it happen. Castiel learned a long time ago that holding back vomit usually did nothing to truly stop it. 

It was several long and horrible moments before Castiel was taking in labored breath after labored breath. He wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth, then down his chin in an attempt to dry his face completely. He stayed there, hunched over the porch, and panting. Not only did he feel like utter shit, he also had the added benefit of Dean Winchester apparently not giving up on him yet. 

Castiel had been focusing on the little puffs of steam coming out of his mouth when he heard the unmistakable sound of the floorboards beside him creak under a new weight. Jesus. Did he ever stop? He glanced over his right arm to see familiar denim, but with a different view. Dean was leaning against the porch as well, but facing opposite Castiel. Blue eyes flicked up fully to watch as Dean snapped his zippo lighter and lit his cigarette. They sat in idle silence as the cigarette burned bright red from Dean’s inhale. He held it for a small moment before exhaling and speaking. 

“So talking to me really does make you sick huh?” 

Castiel’s eyes rolled so far into his head he nearly swayed from the action. He went back to hanging his head over the porch, staring down at the mess he made. Why the hell was Dean still talking to him when the guy was literally in view of his vomit? Wouldn’t that be enough for someone to get the idea that maybe he should be left alone? Apparently not with Dean Winchester. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and running a hand through his hair again. 

“Why,” Castiel started, spitting in an attempt to get the taste of purge from his mouth. “Why are you still talking to me?” He slid a glance over to Dean before remembering what the first thing he saw was when looking over his arm, and went back to looking down. 

“Cause you’re into me Cas, and you clearly don’t want to be,” Dean said, really nailing the head on the coffin. Not that Castiel was going to admit that. “And somehow I still like you even with your puke in my peripheral.” 

God hated him. He must have. 

“Stop,” he mumbled before spitting one more time for good measure. “This isn’t the place or time to be talking about _that._ ” Castiel attempted to stand fully again, but still kept his grip on the fence railing. He looked around the porch slowly, noticing that the small number of people he had seen before rushing out were gone. Most likely left the second Castiel lost it over the porch. Which meant that they were alone. Maybe not fully alone, but there was definitely no one close enough to them that could hear things he didn’t want people to hear. 

“Place? Maybe not, but I’d say we stuck the timing,” Dean replied before pulling from his cigarette. Castiel finally looked back over to him, but with a wary narrow eye. He shouldn’t like where this was going. He should just go home, but Castiel found himself stuck in place. He watched as a plume of smoke escaped the man’s lips before saying anything more. 

“I,” Castiel started, pushing off the fence and twisting around so that he too could lean up against it. He had been cautious not to put his whole weight on it, scared the wood couldn't take it. “I may have a place.” 

He watched as Dean cracked into that same smile that gritted his own teeth. This was why he was here though. It was the whole reason he came. Castiel had an itch to scratch, and if the guy next to him was the one lighting his fire tonight, then so be it. He could go back to hating Dean afterward, or at least go back to attempting to hate him. “God I wish you’d stop smiling like that.” 

“Like what?” Dean’s brow raised slightly, but the smile had remained. 

“Like you just got exactly what you wanted.”

“Maybe I did.”

* * *

The moment that Dean passed the threshold of Castiel’s apartment, it was on. 

Castiel pushed the door closed, locked it, and turned around just in time for Dean to grab at his shirt and close what little space they had between them. He had barely enough time to duck his head down when the other man went in for a kiss. 

“Vomit, remember?” Castiel asked, as he still tasted it on his tongue. He doubted that Dean really wanted a taste of his own. 

“Right,” Dean muttered softly before backing off of Castiel completely. That was really the exact opposite of what he wanted right now, but they couldn’t continue when he still had that awful taste in his mouth. 

“I’ll… be right back.” 

Castiel slipped past Dean, and made his way to the kitchen quickly. He didn’t bother with the lights, and ignored the red blinking light of his answering machine that scarcely lit up the room every other second. When he got into his kitchen though, he did flick on the little light above the sink. There on a shelf above it was mint mouthwash. Castiel grabbed for it, twisted the cap off, and drank a little straight from the bottle. The cool burn of the liquid definitely brought some life into him, and after swishing it around a couple seconds he was spitting it out. He wiped his mouth, turned around, and there Dean was, waiting patiently by the doorframe into the kitchen. 

“Still good?” Dean asked, and Castiel knew exactly what version of good he was referring to. Did Castiel still want to do this? Or did that little swig of fresh mint jog his brain just enough to make it start working again? 

So Castiel stared at Dean for a moment, and he mulled it over. Really mulled it over. Dean could still just leave. They could keep what thin line was still between them, and go back. Castiel didn’t have to choose Dean, but… he wanted to. 

“Come here,” he finally said, watching as Dean didn’t even hesitate to cross the kitchen. Suddenly everything was very much on again, and Castiel practically braced for impact when the other man was grabbing at his shirt for the second time.

Castiel didn’t back down. No. He met Dean in the middle, leaning forward and pressing just as much when their lips connected. Dean’s lips were chapped, but soft and unsure. It was an entirely different feeling, kissing him, and it certainly reignited that fire in Castiel’s belly. After a moment, they shifted the kiss together, as if they had practiced before, and deepened it. Castiel noticed his entire body relax into Dean as he felt the man’s arms drop down to grab at his waist. He moved his own hands to reach up and thread his fingers into fistfuls of hair. 

It was like this wasn’t their first time kissing each other, and Castiel had to give the credit to Dean. He didn’t have a lot of experience in the area, but he knew for sure that none of his past partners kissed this good. It was hot, and maybe even a little needy, but Castiel was all for it. He’s not sure when, and he’s not even sure how, but when he felt himself being pushed back against the sink they finally broke apart.

A small noise escaped his lips as he tried to get a handle on himself. Castiel felt like absolute gelatin while he panted. “How,” he muttered as he slowly opened his eyes, seeing Dean looking at him lustfully. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his own eyes matched. He took in a shaky breath as he tried to string a coherent sentence together. “How do you-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean interrupted before delving into another kiss. Castiel didn’t even want to think about how Dean knew what he was asking, because it didn’t matter. Not really. They were on the same page and that was what mattered. He kissed Dean back enthusiastically, hands tugging down on the man’s hair. Castiel felt himself smile against Dean’s sharp little exhale from the action, and reveled in the feeling of Dean rolling his hips up against him. 

“Jesus,” Castiel whispered somehow in between breaths and kisses. “Bedroom.” He was positive that he had said that. Or at least positive enough that he had attempted to. It was just so difficult to get anything out when all his brain could think about was how good Dean felt against him. They were practically melting into each other at this point. Castiel could feel the edge of his counter digging into his back from being pressed into it so hard, but the things that Dean could do with his tongue made him numb to the pain. That was so dangerous. 

Castiel squirmed when he felt a cold hand slip underneath his shirt. It was just enough shock to his system that he was able to pull away, but not without giving Dean's tongue a suck while he did it. In turn it elicited the most delicious noise from his lover's lips. The sound was part moan and part whimper, and was absolute music to Castiel's ears.”We need to go to my room.” He pushed Dean back just a bit more, and instantly missed the feeling of having another body against him. 

They moved quickly then, Castiel leading while Dean followed behind practically on his heels. He twisted around to face Dean as he opened the door, and stepped back into his room quietly. The lights were off, but Castiel made no move toward where the switch was. 

Dean followed him into his room and stretched his arm out toward the wall to flip on the lights. It was too bright for just a breath. Castiel had squeezed his eyes shut for a tick and opened them back up to see Dean quickly closing the gap between them. There was absolutely no hesitation between them at this point. When Dean was close enough Castiel was grabbing for his clothes roughly, hiking his shirt up while feeling hands quickly trying to undo his own jeans. 

Fuck, Castiel can’t remember the last time he was this turned on. 

He knew how hard he was, and had no indecision that Dean could feel it. He took in a large breath when he felt cold hands slipping down into his boxers, and practically thrusted into them despite the temperature. 

“Shit,” Castiel almost whimpered, but trudged forward, determined to get naked. He shoved at Dean, maybe a little too roughly from how the man nearly toppled back, but it did the job. It gave Castiel the opportunity to strip. In no time at all he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to some corner of his room. Next came his jeans, and he pondered for only a beat or two on when exactly he had taken off his shoes.

Dean didn’t give him a chance to question it for too long as Castiel had become aware of how pleasing the man was when fully naked. He felt his mouth water slightly as his eyes trailed up tanned legs. He could just make out dots of freckles splattered across perfect thighs when Dean’s half hard cock came into view. 

Castiel felt his jaw tighten as he swallowed thickly. He certainly knew what they were doing now, or at least what he was going to do. It took a strenuous amount of effort, but he had been able to continue his gaze upward. Though he nearly regretted doing so when he was met with Dean’s stupid fucking smile. 

“Enjoying the view?” Dean asked, reaching out and grabbing for Castiel’s hip. He let himself be pulled forward, and experienced a pulse of pleasure from feeling their cocks slide together. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. Castiel slid his hands up to grab onto Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t even let the other man get the opportunity to coax him into another kiss because he was shoving Dean to the side and onto his bed.

Castiel watched with some amusement as Dean awkwardly bounced onto the mattress and situated himself on his back. Though that amusement was short lived when Dean spoke up with that same stupid smile. 

“How do you want me?” He asked, and Castiel didn’t even bother to answer. They were naked, they were in his bedroom, and Dean was fully aware that he’d been distracted by his dick. So Castiel didn’t reply. Instead he moved forward and climbed up onto his bed between Dean’s legs. He stared unabashedly, soaking up how red Dean’s lips were. How there was a deep blush to his cheeks that only seemed to accentuate his freckles. Maybe the sun did rise for the other man considering just how many little kisses were all along his body. 

At the mere presence of Dean shifting his legs open more, Castiel had once again brought their connection back full force. He moved swiftly, legs sliding into place on either side of Dean’s, making their cocks slide together once again.

“Fuck,” Dean panted before Castiel was pressing their lips together again. A moan vibrated both of their mouths as they deepened it, and Castiel wasn’t even sure who it belonged to at this point. He rolled his hips down against his counterpart and felt a jolt of pleasure when Dean’s hands grabbed at his ass. 

“That is exactly what I want you to do,” Castiel murmured in between kisses. “And you better do it well.” It wasn’t often Castiel let himself do this. He’d really rather not have it be a waste. He felt Dean nod while they moved together both at the hips and on the lips. When Castiel pulled back he felt his cock twitch from hearing a little whine escape past his lover’s. He locked eyes on Dean’s, and licked his lips before speaking. “Do you want to help or watch?” 

Dean blinked at him, and Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the question went over his head. By the second blink though, Dean’s eyes were going wide and he felt the man’s hands squeeze his ass, “help… Definitely help.” His hand moved from groping at his ass to slipping in between them. Castiel raised his eyebrow as he felt rough fingers press onto his lips. “Wet ‘em for me. Will ya?” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, but obliged, opening his mouth just enough to feel Dean’s fingers slide past his teeth and across his tongue. He sucked on them for a few seconds before they were pulled back out with a pop. 

“Jesus,” Dean muttered before going straight to business, and by business that meant dropping his hand down and pushing two fingers into Castiel right away. “Let’s cut to the chase huh?” Castiel yelped and felt himself clench from the intrusion, but still experienced that familiar twist of pleasure from the brashness. He braced his hand on Dean’s shoulder while the man worked him open, fingers scissoring and pressing in all the right spots. So this certainly wasn’t Dean’s first time at doing any of this. Castiel should have been surprised, but he was too distracted from the pleasure that was skyrocketing through him to care.

By the time that Dean was sliding four fingers into him, Castiel was gripping at his hair and attempting to kiss the life out of him. 

“How bad do you want me Cas?” 

Did Dean ever shut up? No? 

Castiel pulled away from Dean with a slight nip at the man’s bottom lip. He stared at him, all of him, and ground himself down onto those perfect fingers. “Just fuck me already Dean.” There was that stupid fucking grin again.

“Get my cock ready and I will.” 

Castiel opened his mouth to say some form of a retort, but closed it because he was tired of waiting. He spit into his hand before reaching down and stroking Dean’s cock thoroughly. There was certainly some form of pride in him as he watched green eyes flutter and lips part on a sigh. 

They seemed to move in sync after that. Castiel canted forward while Dean lifted him up. He grabbed on to strong shoulders as he felt the head of Dean’s cock press against him. The stretch was rough, but Castiel honestly didn’t mind the burn. Not when that was the thing he’d been craving all evening. 

After a few awkward thrusts they finally seemed to find their rhythm. Castiel would roll his hips down while Dean would thrust up. It was hard, deep, and exactly what he needed. It also certainly helped Castiel’s experience when Dean wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping in time with his thrusts up into him. 

“Fuck,” Castiel panted, though it definitely bordered on the line between pant and whimper. He could feel himself climbing. He looked at Dean through half lidded eyes, and could only see parted lips. 

“You feel so fucking good.” How could Dean even form a sentence right now? Castiel felt himself nodding in agreement, but he was definitely past the point of dirty talk. He grabbed at the back of Dean’s neck and smashed their lips together. It was all teeth and tongue by now with no finesse, but Castiel didn’t care. He just needed more. 

“Harder.” 

Dean obliged, though at the cost of stroking his cock. He grabbed onto both of Castiel’s hips and thrusted up while bringing him down, essentially spearing him on Dean’s cock. Castiel didn’t even bother to hold back his cry of pleasure from the action, and it only egged Dean on more. He kept the pace, and Castiel felt his entire body filling to the brim with pure hot pleasure. 

“Fuck D-” Castiel stammered, and barely noticed a stutter in the thrust as well. “Fuck me.” Dean grunted then, as if offended by what Castiel was saying, and grabbed Castiel’s hips as tightly as he could. 

Suddenly he was being pushed back, and gasping as his back hit his mattress. Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean staring down at him with what looked like determination. It was an odd look to see. Though Castiel didn’t have too much time to really dwell on it as Dean lifted one of his legs up onto his shoulder and pushed his cock back in so quickly it left him seeing stars. 

“Jesus _Dean_ ,” Castiel moaned, and that seemed to do something to Dean. He moved his hand to stroke himself in time with the rough thrusts that were causing the entire bed to shake. “ _Dean._ ” Harder. Faster. Castiel was climbing, filling, and he could tell by the reckless thrusting that Dean wasn’t too far behind him. 

“Cum for me Cas.” The words were hot against his neck, and Castiel opened his eyes to stare up at his ceiling. “I know you want to.” He felt Dean’s lips, then his teeth, and he let go of his cock almost immediately so he could pull at Dean’s hair instead.

“Not the neck,” he hissed before letting out the filthiest moan due to a particularly deep thrust. “Fuck do that again.” 

Dean obliged. 

“Oh fuck-” 

“Cum.” Castiel’s eyes were squeezed shut, his entire body was tightening like a coil, and on the verge of springing open. There was a hand on his cock again, and it only took a couple more strokes before he was climaxing. 

“Dean!” He pulled at a handful of hair as he felt his entire body boil over with ecstasy. Jesus Christ he was absolutely positive that it had never felt like this before. It had never been this good. Castiel could barely process what was happening around him as he skyrocketed to absolute bliss. 

It was a few more thrusts before Dean was joining him with an equally enthusiastic groan. Castiel couldn’t even focus on the fact that a cock was pulsing inside of him. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the pleasure high that he was currently riding on. It was bright and wonderful, and it warmed up every inch of Castiel. He tried to hold on to the feeling as long as possible. 

After a very long and quiet moment, sans their mutual panting, Dean finally lifted himself up from between Castiel’s legs and rolled over just enough to lay beside him. It took another handful of minutes before the reality of what they had just done settled in Castiel’s gut. 

"You need to leave," Castiel stated calmly, much to the contrast of his stomach. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, knowing that he wouldn't be able to look at Dean for the foreseeable future. At least, not without making what he was feeling worse. 

"What?" Dean asked with a huff, clearly still trying to recover from what they did, but Castiel wasn't going to budge. He never did, not when it came to this. 

"Get dressed." He moved his hands to cover his eyes, resting the bottoms of his palms against them. "And get out."

"You're serious?' Dean asked incredulously. "I just _fucked_ you so hard I had you moaning _my name_ , and you can't even wait for the cum to cool on your stomach before kicking me out?" Castiel tried not to cringe from the question. He just pressed his palms harder against his eyes. 

"Dean, you wouldn't-"

"Save it. You want me gone? I'm gone." 

Castiel didn't look. Couldn't look, but just because he wasn't looking didn't mean he couldn't feel Dean climb out of bed. He was viewing a black abyss, but could clearly hear Dean shuffling around and getting dressed. He listened as Dean cursed under his breath and stomped toward the bedroom door. door. He flinched slightly when it was slammed expertly to signal the other man's departure. 

It took several moments before Castiel moved his hands away. He stared up at his ceiling, and tried his damndest to think about something other than the mess he was currently laying in. Jesus, he was so fucking stupid. So fucking weak. 

There, in the silence of his room, Castiel felt the shame and guilt of his actions take hold. 

He should have drank more. 

  
  



End file.
